


Familiarity

by queermoraghid (TheDoctorIsIcecube)



Series: Fresh Start Series (Houseshare AU) [2]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-03-16 07:39:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13631709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDoctorIsIcecube/pseuds/queermoraghid
Summary: Mòrag wasn’t all that fond of the arrangement that said all of the people in their first year at Fonsa Myma’s university should be in university accommodation. She wasn’t exactly used to living with others and she definitely wasn’t used to living with Urayans.-Mòrag finds it difficult to get on with her flatmates so Brighid tries to help.





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about three years before Fresh Start, in Mòrag and Brighid's first year at the university in Fonsa Myma :) it can be read standalone, I imagine, as can Fresh Start, but if you enjoy this it would be great if you could read the other fic in the series as well.

Mòrag wasn’t all that fond of the arrangement that said all of the people in their first year at Fonsa Myma’s university should be in university accommodation. She wasn’t exactly used to living with others and she definitely wasn’t used to living with Urayans. It was pretty intimidating, honestly, and she wasn’t someone who was easily intimidated.

Her first day was awkward. Unspeakably so. Literally. She was trying to avoid talking to her flatmates as much as possible, because if they knew she was Ardainian, they would despise her even more. It was best to build up a reputation as ‘quiet but friendly’, she figured. She didn’t know how she could speak without her heritage being blatantly clear, and as a result she hid for several hours in her bedroom while she could hear them all getting to know each other in the kitchen.

‘Brighid, how do I make friends??’ She texted to her girlfriend. She was completely lost. ‘They’re all talking but I don’t want them to know I’m Ardainian. What do.’

She didn’t have to wait long for a response. ‘I love u, but ur hopeless,’ came the first text. Then, ‘Just go talk to them and be friendly, I’m sure they won’t all hate u <3’. Easy for her to say when she was so good at disguising her accent. Mòrag was not so lucky. 

After a few minutes of staring at the message from Brighid, Mòrag sighed and got up. If they hated her, she’d have an excuse to hide in her room. If they didn’t, then she’d probably make a friend, so she’d win either way. That didn’t stop her from being nervous, however. Her heart was beating uncomfortably quickly in a way it never did even when she was standing up in front of huge crowds of Ardainians.

As she entered the kitchen, everyone stopped talking to look at her. Mòrag caught a glance at her reflection in the window- she looked like she was about to fight someone. Or everyone. She forced herself to relax, and to smile. “Um… Hi.”

“Hi!” A very smiley Urayan girl with bright green hair waved her over, shifting over on the bench and motioning that Mòrag should sit down next to her. She hated sitting so close to people, but she couldn’t exactly refuse, even though she’d rather remain standing. “I’m Kora, it’s nice to meet you! Are you the boy who arrived last night?”

“What?” This girl thought she was a boy? Did everyone else think that, too? Mòrag looked down at herself, and frowned. Alright, maybe it wasn’t such a hard mistake to make. She wasn’t wearing a single item of women’s clothing today. “I’m...not a boy. But I did arrive last night.” 

“Oh, you’re- I thought you were from Indol.” And there, now the whole table had picked up on her accent. Some people looked distinctly uncomfortable now. “But you’re from Mor Ardain, right? You have the accent and all and I heard that they don’t-”

“You should probably stop there before you make a generalising and probably offensive comment,” someone else at the table said. “Are you from Mor Ardain? That’s fine, as long as you’re not military.” They laughed, and Mòrag felt her heart sink in her chest. She managed a rather sickly smile, trying to laugh along with the rest of the group. Looked like she was going to be keeping her entire life secret from these people, then. 

“I promise I don’t hate Urayans,” she said, honestly. That got a small laugh from some people, and a rather unpleasant look from others. “Except when there are trade embargos. Then I sort of hate it, because that means there’s no chocolit in Mor Ardain.”

“Really?” Kora leaned forwards. “Why don’t you have chocolit?”

“Because those plants require lots of water and humidity to grow,” she said. “Humidity is about zero in Mor Ardain and we almost never get rain.”

“Oh, poor you…” Kora patted her arm sympathetically. “What’s it like in Mor Ardain, aside from being hot? I’ve never been… Or really wanted to go, honestly.” Mòrag had been asked this same question by three Urayans now, and she still hadn’t come up with an adequate answer. 

“It’s lighter than Uraya,” she said. “And the people are friendlier, but maybe that’s because Urayans don’t like Ardainians very much.” She laughed nervously. “Days are longer. And sometimes we get dust storms or smog, which can be interesting. The smog glows purple, so that’s not too different to Uraya.”

Several people looked interested by her description; several looked disgusted, Mòrag could feel eyes burning into her, and for the first time in a very long while, she was sorely tempted to turn around and run back to her bedroom. Why was this so hard? “Sounds pretty weird,” someone said. “Do you have water shortages?”

“Not really,” Mòrag said with a shrug. They had water shortages every summer, but if they didn’t already know that they didn’t need to know. “We condense the steam, and there are plenty of freshwater springs.” That got a few understanding nods, and then there was a long silence. No one seemed quite sure what to say now that she was here and they’d asked the obvious questions, and Mòrag felt very much like an outsider. It was an uncomfortable feeling, one that she was unaccustomed to. 

She glanced down at her phone, and then back up at the people around her. They were giving her sort of a wary look. She sighed and made a decision. ‘Can I come round tonight?’ She asked Brighid. She didn’t get an immediate response, so she texted some clarifying info. ‘Flatmates are treating me like a convict’.

‘If you want,’ came the reply a few moments later. ‘I’ll call you, give you an excuse to get away’. The conversation between her flatmates had already started up again, somewhat half-heartedly, so when Mòrag’s phone started buzzing with the call notification, she barely needed to say anything before she slipped away back into her bedroom. Just for the hell of it, she picked up the call, keen to hear her girlfriend’s voice. 

“You didn’t have to pick up,” Brighid said with a short chuckle.

“I wanted to hear you speak,” she said. “I just had to answer the question of what Mor Ardain was like. Again. And they told me that being Ardainian was fine as long as I wasn’t part of the military and I just had to laugh.

“Ouch,” Brighid said sympathetically. Mòrag heard her sigh into the phone, and she quietly hoped that she wasn’t being annoying. Brighid might not want her own reputation to be damaged by having someone so obviously Ardainian in her flat, after all. “When do you want to come over?”

“As soon as possible, if I can,” she said. She’d unpacked everything and meticulously organised all of her stuff at least once. And she’d stewed anxiously on her bed for an hour, and she’d cleaned the bathroom already, just in case. She didn’t want to be alone anymore.

“How about now? Most of my flatmates are out socialising, but I wasn’t in the mood. Good thing, really, otherwise I wouldn’t have been around to save you.” Brighid laughed, and the sound of it melted away a little of Mòrag’s anxiety. She would never be able to thank her girlfriend enough for this.

“You’re sent from the Architect,” Mòrag said immediately, and Brighid laughed again.

“Are you going to hang up, or just keep talking to me until you get here?” She asked. Mòrag could hear the smile in her voice.

“Keep talking, of course,” she said. Besides, she didn’t exactly know where Brighid’s flat was, so at some point she was going to need directions.

As if Brighid had read her mind, the next thing out of her mouth was “My flat is two blocks from yours. First left when you leave your building, then take a right. You’ll know the building. I’m on the third floor.” 

Mòrag just closed her eyes and tried to map that out. “I’ll probably need that again,” she admitted, grabbing her key from the desk and trying to quickly leave the flat. All her flatmates were still sitting in the kitchen and she didn’t really want them to know she was going out.

“Just let me know when.” Brighid went quiet then, so Mòrag quietly slunk out of her flat and down the stairs, making sure not to make any noise until she was well out of earshot of her flatmates. It was going to be such a relief to finally see some familiarity again.

-

Mòrag was so happy to see a familiar face when Brighid opened the door to the floor for her. They’d only been apart for a few hours, but with so many new people and some very stressful encounters, she just wanted to see someone she knew again. Brighid reached out her arms, and Mòrag gladly fell into a hug. “Please remind me never to socialise with unfriendly strangers again,” she mumbled into her girlfriend’s shoulder. Brighid laughed. 

“You’re the Special Inquisitor, isn’t that most of your job?”

“Shh!” She said. She really didn’t want people to know that, even if they thought it was just a joke. “And yes, it is, but if I’m doing my job and someone tries to hurt me I can stab them. If someone talks down to me here and I stab them, I get arrested and deported and Uraya probably goes to war.”

“Sorry.” Brighid’s arm slid down to her waist, and she guided Mòrag into the room. “Really, I’m sure it can’t be that bad. I’m sure your flatmates don’t hate you.” Mòrag gave her a Look, and Brighid sighed. “But I’m perfectly happy for you to stay the night anyway. Any time.”

“No, I should be fine,” she said, but honestly she was dreading going back to her own flat already. She didn’t know when they’d be asleep or if they’d hear her. What if she woke people up by coming in? What if she passed them in the hallway and they started judging her again?

Brighid gave her a doubtful look. “I can see you worrying. So, I’m telling you, you are staying the night. No protests.” She gave Mòrag her best stern look. It was pretty effective, honestly. For someone so nice, Brighid could be strict when she wanted to be.

“What if I told you I still had to unpack?” She asked. May as well string Brighid on for a while. She just wanted to have a friendly conversation at this point.

Brighid just laughed. “If you told me that, you’d be lying. You packed your suitcase specifically so you could unpack efficiently. Come on, we have the kitchen to ourselves, I’ll make you some cocoa.”

“Fine, fine…” Mòrag pretend-reluctantly followed Brighid into the kitchen, glancing around as she did. The kitchen was almost identical to the one in her own flat- same outdated cooking equipment, same rattly fridge. Fun. She sat down on the edge of the table and watched Brighid get things ready to make two mugs of hot chocolate.

“We don’t have any cream yet so I hope this is okay,” Brighid said. As if it wouldn’t be okay. Mòrag loved Brighid’s...everything. Everything she did was perfect, even if there was no cream in the cocoa.

“It’s totally fine,” she assured her girlfriend. Watching Brighid cook was so soothing- she moved with the sort of confidence that Mòrag aspired to, even if she was only doing something so simple as melting some chocolate and milk in a pan.

“You look stressed,” Brighid said, even though she had her back turned and clearly couldn’t see Mòrag right in this moment. “Try and calm down a little. Your tension could probably heat up this chocolate enough that I’ll burn the bottom of the pan.”

“I’ll calm down when I have hot chocolate in my hands and your arms around me. Not before. I...ugh. I’ve never felt so powerless.” She sighed. “I can’t make them like me, and I don’t like lying to them. As soon as they find out who I am, they’ll be trying to get me thrown out of the flat.” 

“You could move into mine,” Brighid said. Her voice was so casual, but Mòrag would never dream of intruding in her personal space like that. They’d shared a suite for a few weeks whenever Brighid was staying with her and they’d shared a bed a handful of times, but they’d never really shared living space before. She couldn’t impose on Brighid like that.

“No… I’ll be fine, unless they drive me out of there with flaming pitchforks. I won’t intrude.” She shifted in her chair, and Brighid just hummed in response. Mòrag couldn’t quite tell whether it was a positive or a negative hum, but before she could ask, Brighid turned around with two mugs of cocoa. 

“This one’s yours. There’s a little chilli powder in it, be warned. I know you like the heat.” Mòrag nodded and gratefully took the mug, wrapping her hands around it and closing her eyes for a moment. What had she even done to deserve Brighid? Mòrag was sure there was no one in Alrest more wonderful than her.


	2. Moving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mòrag's situation only gets worse until Brighid intervenes.

Term started, and while after the first week Mòrag saw significantly less of her flatmates, she still felt uneasy when she spent much time in her room. They weren’t welcoming and she didn't feel happy there, but she had the option of going to Brighid’s pretty much every night if she wanted to. And the thing was that she did want to, so she ended up staying there quite a lot. Brighid didn't seem to mind, even though Mòrag worried every day that she was intruding too much. 

After a few weeks, things weren’t getting much better. Perhaps Mòrag could stand to socialise with her flatmates a little more, but they definitely weren’t very friendly to her. It wasn’t entirely her fault. The barrier was definitely because they didn't like Ardainians. The knowledge that she was doing international relations didn't make things any better with them, because she could tell that they immediately suspected her of being friendly with the Ardainian government. They were correct, of course, but that didn't mean they had an adequate excuse to treat her poorly. 

Over the weeks, various items of food had gone missing from her cupboard and her part of the fridge, and any time anyone was lazy enough to drop rubbish in the hallway, it always seemed to be outside her room. She was strongly considering asking to move to a different flat, but really, would that be any better? If she moved, she’d be an intruder into a flat still full of Urayans. She was positive that they would see her as an invader into their space.

She also really didn't want to admit defeat, so to speak. These people were trying to drive her out of the place she had every right to be in, and she’d be damned if she didn't take that as a personal challenge. Brighid told her she was probably taking it too seriously and too personally, but she didn't care. She had to win. She considered revenge strategies of some kind, but knowing these people, they would find a way to turn even that back against her somehow. Winning, it seemed, would just have to be a matter of staying here for as long as she could possibly stand, and not screaming at any Urayans.

Carefully, every day, she compiled a list of things that they did to try and shun her, make her uncomfortable. She knew her own formal bearing with them made things harder on her, of course, but she wasn’t just going to change her personality to get along with them. She also knew that she would probably never do anything with the list, because it wasn’t like they would actually punish these people for their prejudice, but it gave her a sense of satisfaction.

Four weeks into this meticulous list-creation, she mentioned it to Brighid. This ended up not going quite how she had imagined it going- Brighid, although impressed by the detail of the list, was also rather horrified. “They’re taking your food? That’s literally a crime, Mòrag, why haven’t you told anyone about this?”

Mòrag shrugged. “They won’t do anything, and students do that kind of thing. They take food, claim they didn't realise, and no one can prove that anything was done with intent. If I report it, they’ll all just say I’m out to get them because I’m Ardainian and then they’d hate me more.”

“If you won’t do something about this, then I will.” Brighid sighed. “I can’t exactly report them for you, and I guess I can’t force you into anything, but please- move in with me. Get away from those people, and come live with someone who actually loves you and cares about you.” 

“But then they’ll-”

“Mòrag,” Brighid said firmly. “You’re brave, and I love you and admire you, but you being at university isn’t a battle, and it isn’t even a political function. It’s you studying away from home. Nothing more, nothing less. You never have to speak to those people again once you move out.”

She was right. She was always right, Mòrag thought, without a hint of resentment. She sighed, leaning her head against Brighid’s shoulder as she considered it. “...Alright. Just...I’m sorry for being so stubborn. I can only imagine that it annoys you sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Brighid said, a gentle smile forming on her face. “I just want you to be safe and happy. You could move here, or we could move out to a house in the city somewhere. Either way is fine, I just want it to be better for you. It’ll help me feel better if I know you’re with me rather than suffering on your own.”

“I’ll move in here first, that’ll be easiest.” Mòrag lifted her head, managing a small smile at Brighid. “But then, perhaps we could look for a place elsewhere in the city. I’d rather not share with any Urayans, though.”

“I can understand that,” Brighid said. “Let’s just do it one step at a time. We’ll start moving your stuff in here, and from there we’ll look somewhere else. First we have to rescue your poor food from the food thieves, after all.”

“Ugh… I wonder what else they’ve managed to pinch whilst I’ve been away from the flat.” She’d taken to keeping an emergency bag of rice in her room, just so that if everything else vanished, she would at least have something to eat. 

“You really did get the flatmates from hell,” Brighid said. “Mine don’t know I’m Ardainian, sure, but they presumed I was Indoline and just moved on. I’m not incredibly friendly with them, but they’re pleasant enough. They don’t steal my food, unless they’re drunk, in which case they apologise and replace it.”

“Ha. None of my flatmates have ever apologised to me for anything,” Mòrag grumbled. “One of them pissed in a drinks can when he was drunk, and guess where that ended up? Outside my room.” She scowled. “I almost kicked the damn thing.” A thought occurred to her suddenly, and she frowned. “What if your flatmates start doing these sorts of things to you if I move in here?”

“They won’t,” Brighid said gently. “And if they do, then I have categorical proof that it’s because they object to Ardainians, which is against the university tolerance policy. You would not be the one they could blame for any of it, so please don’t worry about it. You worry too much, Mòrag.”

“Equally, I could argue that you worry too little,” she pointed out. “But I suppose we balance each other out quite nicely, if that’s the case. Just enough worry for two people.” Mòrag crossed over to Brighid’s bed, sitting down on the edge of it. “You don’t mind me staying here overnight, do you?”

“Of course not,” Brighid said. “Mòrag, you’re moving in. I definitely don’t mind that you’re staying here, especially as you’ve stayed almost half of your nights here. Actually, it’s a wonder my flatmates haven’t asked about you already, come to think of it.”

“You could introduce me, if you’re sure they won’t hate me on sight. I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise.” She smiled slightly. “Unless even my best behaviour isn’t enough to please Urayans. It wouldn’t surprise me, although I suppose they have adequate reason to hate me.”

“They don’t have a reason to hate a random Ardainian woman,” Brighid said. “They don’t even have a good reason to hate you as Mòrag Ladair, seeing as you haven’t exactly been one to promote war. But I doubt that people are all that clued up on Ardainian politics.”

“I doubt anyone here is clued up on Ardainian politics, except perhaps the politics students,” Mòrag pointed out. ”And even some of them are too busy partying to care what their biggest rival country is doing.” She looked up at Brighid. ”So- what are your flatmates like? Just so that I have a little idea of what to expect.”

“Well there’s Azami, who’s very strange, but I haven’t seen much of her, so I wouldn’t worry,” Brighid said. “Then there’s Electra, who I swear is too young to be at university, but she’s an electrical engineering student and scarily smart sometimes. Theory is a little cold but still very nice, she’s out quite a lot, and Zenobia is absolutely mad but spirited in the right kind of way, if maybe a little too fond of getting into sticky situations whilst drunk. And the last one is Dagas, who is an absolute pain. Completely up his own arse and unaware that no one else is. That said, he treats everyone equally badly, so at least he won’t be prejudiced.”

“They sound like an interesting bunch. I don’t think I ever even learned all my flatmates’ names,” Mòrag said with a sigh. “There’s Kora, and...ah...some others.” She shrugged. “I can’t be bothered to learn names if they can’t be bothered to be nice to me.”

“You’re hopeless,” Brighid said with a laugh, leaning over to kiss Mòrag’s cheek. “Do you want to start moving stuff now, or wait until tomorrow?”

Mòrag shrugged. “We may as well start now,” she said. “I can pack up all my things fairly easily and I’m not sure much of my stuff is left outside of the flat. I suppose that the sooner I get all my things out of there, the better.”

“Mm. I’ll come down there with you and help you move it all out. Let’s get going, shall we? Brighid extended a hand to help Mòrag off the bed, and Mòrag found herself being pulled up and into a kiss. She didn't object in the slightest.

Moving in with Brighid was actually incredibly easy, it turned out. It was all far easier than things had been before. Mòrag was staying with Brighid, just as she had been beforehand, and now it was just that all of her things were already there. Brighid’s flatmates were strange, but understanding of Mòrag’s situation (Zenobia had offered to fight them and Brighid had objected so quickly that Mòrag was sure something had happened in the past on that front), and they were a lot more accepting of her than her other flatmates had been. She still didn't tell them exactly who she was, because they didn't need to know and she didn't want to be judged, but it was alright. She was happy, and she was with Brighid. That was what really mattered here. Moving elsewhere, it turned out, could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :) If you have liked this or have any other feedback, I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment to let me know.


End file.
